✞ John 1:5 ✞
✞ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. ✞
A former sleazy nightclub singer with a gloomy past and afterwards a devotional sister of the church, Sister Jude Martin, running with an iron fist the most nef...
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--- A Few Hours Later ---
A few hours after both former pious members of the church crawled into the king-sized bed, something urged the former nun to get a glass of water in the kitchen though she felt the dead weight of a pair of muscly arms snaked around her upper back, snuggling together under the warm, conveniently soft quilt.
Once Jude came to her senses in the wee hours of the morning as she scanned promptly the clock on her nightstand in a mere eyeing, it exactly read 4 o'clock in the morning with mildly glowing white digitals.
She shook momentarily her head like a dog after having a fresh bath in the mist, salty sea, aiding her vision to ebb out its blurriness that fogged her drowsy eyelids in the pitch-black room. Pitch black room was guarded by its natural shadows of the darkness, hedging each corner of the bedroom they shared.
When she wriggled off her petite frame, escaping the potent, warmhearted cuddle she shared with her former lover, subsequently, the blonde seated on the edge of the bed to hop up in comfy, fuzzy slippers. She tiptoed like a burglar up to the door, leading to the hallway. In the middle of her silent destination to the door.
A grunt curled Timothy's lips, catching her off guard as his mouth produced muffled, reluctant smacking. At first, the Bostonian thought the younger man woke up as her mouth was slightly agape, contracting her jaw.
„Phew! That was so close!" The former pious woman of the cloth wiped with the palm of her petite, creamy as satin hand her temple, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom plumpish lip. Her hazelish-brown orbs, fueled with indescribable fatigue and consternation, pigmenting in palish tinges her irises, exposing the genuine pigments that predominated in them.
Her flimsy heart was about to spring up from her curtailed like a toy out of the box.
„Even if he was awake, it wouldn't hurt a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water at all." An inner voice produced Symphony into her head as a sigh of relief heaved from the top of her fragile lungs as its oxygen surged through her breathing organs.
Relief enveloped her still hammering heart churned out even more frequently as its heartbeats pulsated briskly into her ears. Into the void. Into the vacuum. Into the darkness that embraced her into his invisibly murky arms, shadowing partly her petite frame which was nothing, compared to the darkness's humongous dimension.
As soon as her elvish, flabbily twitching hand met the doorknob, consequently, she opened warily the notoriously creaky door gradually, glimpsing for a couple of seconds with every part of opening the door at her love interest, inhaling inwardly, unnerved.
